


The Dripping Tap

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Twelve Days of Christmas [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a dripping tap and John Watson is unable to get to sleep</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dripping Tap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azriona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/gifts).



Drip!

Drip!

John Watson turned over in bed.  It was just a tap dripping; why couldn’t he ignore it and get to sleep?

Drip!

It probably just needed a new washer.  He could do it in the morning.  Once he’d slept.

Drip!

Drip!

Movement downstairs.  Maybe the noise had disturbed Sherlock, too; distracted him whilst he was wandering through his mind palace.

Drip!

No, Sherlock had gone back in his own room – he hadn’t gone far, probably finding a book.

Drip!

Basic plumbing, perhaps?  Don’t be ridiculous; plumbing was done by those who didn’t have Sherlock’s brain. 

Drip!  Drip!  Drip!

Those who had ordinary lives.

He turned over again and pulled the pillow over his head to cut out the noise.  And then just as quickly, he threw it across the room because underneath it was too dark.

Drip!  Drip!

Now he had no pillow and would have to get up to retrieve it.  What if the carpet was damp?  What if it squelched underfoot as he crossed the room?

Drip!

Stop being ridiculous, Watson; all you need is some sleep.

He sat up, turned as if to get out of the bed and then pulled his knees to his chest and put his arms round them. 

He couldn’t hear the drip now.

It had stopped!  No, he couldn’t hear the drip because the water was running faster.

His heart beat faster and he tried to control his breathing.

Drip!

It’s slowed down again now.  It’s okay.  Lie down and get some sleep.  Don’t worry about the pillow; you’ve slept without one before.

Drip!  Drip!

Lie here and wait till morning.  Everything will be better in the day light.

Drip!

Think positively.  Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, the flat can be decorated.

_They’ve shut down for Christmas.  No-one will find you until the New Year._

Drip!  Drip! Drip!  Drip-Drip!

_High tide’s in two hours.  You haven’t got long to wait._

Drip!

_Or do you think your so-called friend Sherlock Holmes is going to come looking for you?_

Drip!  Drip!

Footsteps.  Footsteps on the stairs.

The bedroom door opened and Sherlock was silhouetted against the light on the stairs.

“I heard you moving and thought you might like a cup of tea.  I’m surprised you aren’t asleep after what happened to you today.”

“I couldn’t sleep.  I could, fuck, I could hear the tap dripping.”

Sherlock nodded.  “In which case, I shall turn the water off at the mains when I go back down.  We can get a plumber in the morning.”

“It’s Christmas Eve; we’ll never get a plumber.”

“Mycroft can get us a plumber.  He never knows what to get me for Christmas.”


End file.
